


The Materia Basket

by Kemis



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2006-06-22
Updated: 2010-05-15
Packaged: 2017-10-06 14:08:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kemis/pseuds/Kemis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A small collection of assorted drabbles and ficlets, of different subjects and ranging from crack to angst. Rating will be given for each piece.</p><p>Last added : <br/>"Ninja Spoons" (K - Cloud, Zack): Why aren't there any spoons in the Shinra mess?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bloody Valentine (K - Vincent)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vincent Valentine is very far from being a normal man, and he has never been one.

Vincent Valentine is very far from being a normal man, and he has never been one. Always, as far as he can remember, there has been something that set him apart from everyone else, even before Hojo came.

He still remembers his childhood, spent either in his father's huge library while the man buried himself in his lab - _rustles of old frail pages, smell of dust and disinfectant, tinkling of glass vials, greens lights_ \- or hovering not far from Mother - _scent of lilies, gentle smile, hugs and soft white hands stroking his hair_ \- quietly watching her work and cook. He remembers the other children's loud laughter and their mocking his crimson eyes - _freak, devil child, bloody valentine_ \- the stones thrown at him and the punches and kicks on his weaker frame. He remembers Father's indifference and Mother's soothing - _"They aren't bloody, darling, they are precious like rubies, like your father's rare and very special materia orbs. They are so very beautiful, Vince, I really like your eyes"_. Labs, blood and summon materia. Life is so very ironic, sometimes.

He learned to live with the fact he's not normal a long time ago. The realization that he will never be so came later, and it was harder to accept. Except, he thought, young and too serious despite his age and desperately trying not to show how much it hurt, what's the point in trying to do something you know from the start it's impossible?

He accepted his abnormality, took it and went as far with it as he could, so when years later his fellow Turks dubbed him Bloody Valentine he saw no point in protesting. And if in a buried corner of his mind he wished very quietly for the echoes of mocking laughter and childish malice that once upon a time had matched that nickname instead of the taste of blood and gunpowder they had been replaced with, no one had to know. Ha accepted the dirty jobs, he has accepted the fear and the hate and the scorn. He accepted everything, while something inside of him broke and died day after day until nothing was left but indifference.

Then, then Lucretia came, beautiful Lucretia with mako, pain and Chaos in her wake, and Hojo after her, and he had been stripped of whatever illusion of humanity he had left.

Now, after to a lot of scars and tortures, a malformed left arm, a body unable to age or die and four demons living inside of him, his eyes seems like such a small thing but comparison. Yet they are still the one thing people notice and fear. He still hears the same old overused whispers behind his back, and wonders why not even time could change how people see him. It makes him feel so very, very tired.

But in the end he comes home to his lovers, their quiet understanding and warm affection. A playful wink from glowing blue eyes and a tilt of a blond head towards the living room, and he finds the last book he had been reading waiting for him on the couch together with a cup of his favorite green tea.

Later, when his cup is empty and the book almost finished, there are two strong arms wrapping around his shoulders from behind, a fall of silver locks spilling over his shoulder and a hand tilting his head around to meet his other lover's soft gaze. "You know, I really like looking at your eyes," his lover says, in a still too rare open display of his feelings. "They are so beautiful."

He wants to reply that no, blood-red isn't a good color for eyes (or for anything else, really) that blue or mako-tinted green are so much nicer, but his mouth is already taken in a kiss. At that, he is left with no other choice but to kiss back, slow and deep, and stare back through half-closed lids. The green eyes are so full of heat and unspoken promises it's almost enough to make his toes curl, and his answer doesn't really matter anymore, the moment gone and the words scattering forgotten somewhere in his mind.

No, Vincent Valentine is not a normal man, but he has come to realize that, cliché as it sounds, normalcy isn't really that important.


	2. Vermilion (K - Sephiroth)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sephiroth watches the sunset and thinks.

Sephiroth, much as he tried to, could not remember ever seeing something like this.

He had spent his early years always in Midgar. The air there was thick with reactor waste and smog even over the plate, and the pollution gave the sky a vaguely greenish tint he had always found a bit disturbing. He had spent too much time recovering from mako exposure to be fond of that particular shade of green.

Before Midgar there had been another place he could only barely remember. Hojo had always told him that he had been born and raised in Midgar, and he had believed his words until he realized the clear white sunrise he could clearly recall simply couldn't fit in the city's rotting sky. He knew better though than to ask the Doctor for the name of that place, so that white dawn was left nameless and disconnected like an open-eyes dream. It was probably better that way.

The first real sunset, instead, he saw in Wutai. The sun itself was a red ball not unlike a summon materia, and the sky was vermilion with golden and orange hues. It was so very different from what he was used to that he couldn't help to stop and just look. He lacked any real artistic insight, but he felt in that moment the sudden realization of why so many people practiced arts such as poetry and painting. Such sights deserved to be passed on.

But, knee-deep in stinking mud, monster gore and blood it was difficult to concentrate on fancy words and pretty colors. As he calmly waited in position with his SOLDIER squad for General Heitfields's all-clear on the surprise night attack on the enemy camp, he decided he still preferred Wutai's vermilion to Midgar's sickly green.


	3. Silk and Cheese Cake (K - Tifa, Cloud)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tifa really should have stayed in bed. Maybe then she wouldn't be having such a weird morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for serious crack.
> 
> Written for Skeren on a "Cloud has a secret silk fetish" idea.

Tifa yawned faintly, tying up her gown as she padded downstairs to start up on breakfast. She had managed to fall asleep only in the predawn hours, and her head hurt with the lack of sleep and yesterday's dinner. Marlene had been such a dear, wanting to cook her and Cloud a special meal for the Strife Delivery Service's one year anniversary, but the results had been not up to her expectations. They still forced themselves to eat as much of it as possible not to disappoint her, but by the dessert even Cloud with his high and mighty Soldier metabolism had been looking a bit green at the edges.

The mere thought of that cursed cheese cake was enough to make her groan. That was it, she decided. Dear or not, Marlene was not allowed anywhere near the stove without taking a emergency remedial course at Elmyra's first.

Realizing she was blindly groping the coffee-maker, she forced her eyes open long enough to put the coffee in and turned it on. Blessed Freya, she could -feel- that this was going to be one of those painstakingly long days. Trying to keep herself awake, she turned to the window, looking outside. Fenrir was still parked in the backyard. Why exactly that struck as weird she wasn't quite sure at the moment, though. She glanced at the clock, that wasn't helpful at all except for telling her it was 8.07 am.

It wasn't until she had poured herself a cup of coffee and drank half of it that her brain finally provided her with an answer. At this time, it said, Cloud was usually out for a bit of morning training after getting up at the crack of dawn, like every day for as long as she could remember after meeting him again. A small vindictive corner of her mind was gloating with the knowledge that even Soldier metabolism had surrendered to bad cooking. The rest of her that wasn't still asleep could only wince in sympathy. So, being the kind and helpful woman she was, Tifa poured another cup of coffee and walked back upstairs to Cloud's room.

She knocked and waited, but there were no signs of life from within the room. "Cloud?" She tried knocking again. And again. No answer whatsoever. Man, dinner must have been really hard on him, he was such a light sleeper. "Cloud, I'm coming in," she called before opening the door and cautiously creeping in. She rarely if ever went into Cloud's room even to clean, because she knew how much he valued his privacy. He even took care of his own laundry, lately.

As suspected, Cloud was still in bed, deeply asleep and snoring softly. It was almost cute, she decided, if he hadn't indeed looked a bit pale. But then again it was simply the contrast with the black sheets that didn't quite flatter his complexion. Wait a minute, black sheets? Tifa was positive she didn't own any black sheets. And that looked like silk, too, and damn expensive. She was still trying to figure that out, when Cloud turned to lay on his back, sprawling out on the bed.

It wasn't long before he stirred, opening blood-shot eyes and blinking wearily up at her. "Tifa? 'zit mornin' 'ready?"

Probably it was the sound of her eyes popping out and her jaw hitting the floor that woke him, she decided. On autopilot she nodded and handed him the forgotten coffee mug. Blindly rubbing at his eyes he sat up on the bed and took it, muttering something that sounded like 'dessert' and 'Marlene' into it.

Not that Tifa was paying much attention to what he was saying, no. She was quite busy staring at his choice of sleep attire. "Cloud," she asked slowly, "is that a nightie you're wearing?"

Cloud, who had apparently forgotten she was there judging from the way he startled, blinked up at her, and then looked down at himself. "Yes, it is." With that, he went back to sip his coffee.

"And why are you wearing it?" Tifa prodded him after a minute, when she realized there were no more explanations forthcoming.

He blinked up at her again, "Because it's silky. I like silk."

"You're wearing a woman lingerie item because you like silk," she said slowly. She waited a minute for that to sink it, but it didn't. That explained the black silk sheets, her brain chirped. "You're wearing woman lingerie because you like silk?"

"They don't make that many silk items for men, now, do they?" he pointed out matter-of-fact.

"…Oh." Which made sense. Kind of.

"Indeed." Cloud drained the last of his coffee and stretched a bit, slipping out of the sheets to get up. "Thanks for the coffee, Tifa," he said handing her back the mug and kissing her absent-mindedly on the cheek on his way to get his gown - blue silk, too - from where it had been thrown on the chair. "I'm warning you, though, I'm not eating anything that was cooked by Marlene for a long time."

"I wasn't planning to let her," she replied automatically, still staring half-dazed at him as he shrugged on the gown and picked up his shaving kit and teeth brush and walked barefooted to the bathroom. He was at the door when she called him back.

"What?" he asked impatiently, looking back over his shoulder. Like she was being unreasonable.

"…why the panties too?"

A brief pause, and she could see his cheeks color up slightly. "They go with the nightie," he answered with a shrug before disappearing in the bathroom, leaving her standing in the middle of the hallway staring at the closed door with an empty coffee cup.

Well, that explained everything, didn't it, her brain said. They go with the nightie. It's totally obvious. Silly Tifa, not figuring that out straight away.

"…Marlene, what did you put in that cheese cake? MARLENE!"


	4. Wrong (M - ?/Sephiroth)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything is wrong. Can't you see?

Wrong. Everything - the place, the people, the smells, himself - _everything_ was wrong. Shinra's top General, army leader, winner of the Wutai war. --will be the object of our next publicity campaign, the perfect, perfect example for all the young boys, everyone will see and want to follow you, follow Shinra.

_heavy breath stroking his sweaty, over-sensitive skin, hands clutching at the back of his partner at a deeper thrust_

Doctor's Hojo most prized specimen, engineered and trained and _made_ to fight-win-kill-rule - your Mother's child, yes, beautiful and alien and beyond pitiful humans, a god fit to conquer and control the world, perfect

_lips fastening on the lobe of his ear making him shiver and jerk his hips up, rubbing himself against the man's belly_

Leader, conquerer, General, perfect, not human (monster freak machine) more than them, better and underneath it all a near-silent, too-young sounding whisper of _'No, no, I don't want it, I'm not perfect, I don't want to be, don't you see I'm not what you want?'_ and a tug, ignored with long years of practice and training. Control, control is fundamental - control your strength, control your enemy, control your allies.

_a harder thrust and he rocked back into it, silver bangs sticking to his face and too-powerful thighs tightening around his partner's waist and oh, harder, harder,_ yes!

Perfect child, my perfect son, come to Mother, child, my precious, my one and beloved child, mine, this Planet is your birthright, ours, to take and eat.

Lying spent on the bed, silver and dark hair and sweaty limbs tangled, dirty, quivering and spent. Sephiroth exhaled slowly. In his head, there was only a blissful silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: Written on a uke!Sephiroth prompt. I still don't know who the other guy is, so think what you want.


	5. Misinterpretation (T - Angeal/Zack)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angeal is oblivious, Zack is an adorable dork. Misunderstandings are to be expected.

Angeal was aware that most people after one glance at Zack wouldn't bet one gil on his IQ being two-digited - actually, he had to admit he had doubts himself at times despite knowing better. It had taken a second glance to catch the intelligent sparkle in his purple eyes, behind the cheerfulness and the eager-to-please attitude, but he prided himself with being observant. What kind of shitty instructor would he be if he couldn't see right through his pupils? Zack was good at pulling the wool in front of other people's eyes, but Angeal had seen the steely determination of a warrior wrapped in a puppy-like package, and taken the kid under his wing. The fact that the puppy could be damn endearing at times was a source of never-ending frustration for him.

Of course, that didn't mean he didn't make mistake, didn't - even if rarely - overlook things from time to time. The point was being driven home quite spectacularly by Zack pinning him to his locker after their training and doing his damn best to kiss the breath out of him, totally out of the blue. Yeah, hadn't seen that one coming.

He broke the kiss with a grunt, and blinked to keep the surprise from making his eyes go wide. "What's that supposed to mean, kid?"

Zack took a step back, a bit flushed from the kiss, but didn't remove his hands from their position on Angeal's shoulders. "I've decided," he announced, "that you've played hooky long enough, and it's time I make my move."

The kid actually looked outright determined for once, and that fact was scary by itself. He opened his mouth to speak, but Zack didn't let him, instead going on with his speech.

"I'm tired of dropping hints and waiting. So if _you_," he half-snarled, jabbing in the middle of Angeal's chest with his finger, "are not going to do something about this, then by Ramuh _I_ will!"

Angeal just stared at him with raised eyebrows. "Zack, what the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about the attraction between us," the boy burst out. "You can't keep your hands off me. You're always touching me - and let me tell you, you've been a horrible tease with all the hair-ruffling, pats on the back, an awful lot of 'friendly' slaps on my ass, not to mention how you always take your sweet time in getting off me when you down me in hand-to-hand training. And, " the boy threw his hands up, "you've allowed me to touch your precious Buster, you went so far as to use Her to shield me! You even let me polish Her afterwards!"

Listening to the rant, Angeal was finally starting to clue in on the situation. "...and you took that as a sign of my interest for you?"

"Well, how else was I supposed to take it? You don't let anyone touch your Buster, not even Sephiroth! I thought that you were holding back because I'm young, your student and with lower rank, and that maybe if I dropped enough hints that I was willing you would stop being your usual honorable self at least once I passed to First Class. But I've been a First Class for over a month now, and I've had it with hoping for a knock at my door at night and getting reacquainted with my hand in the meanwhile!"

Angeal, having gotten a pretty clear idea of the picture, raised his hand, signaling the boy to be quiet. "Okay. Allow me to do a brief recap - I'm attracted to you but I held back because of regulations, while you dropped hints that my attention was welcomed?"

"Yes. You know, hints?" The boy laughed faintly, but his body language was starting to show his discomfort. "I mean, what part of my glomping you and yelling 'I love you, Angeal!' - in front of Lazard, no less - did you miss?"

Angeal shook his head, both amused and frustrated. He could sort of see where the kid was coming from, but it couldn't be farther from the truth. Had he known Zack been harboring such incorrect notions in regard to their mentor-student relationship he would have... Well, actually he wasn't so sure of what he would have done. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't entertained the notion before - Zack was beautiful, and as charming as he was annoying, but he was also really young, and his student, and his attentions to the boy had always been with honorable intent. He hadn't realized he had been mistaken so badly. And he hadn't realized that Zack was quite willing. That... really did change things, did it?

"Angeal?" The sound of his name made him turn again to look at the kid, who was looking more and more uncomfortable by the second. "Say something, please? So I know whether to, y'know, get the condoms and lube from my locker or stuff myself into it and start apologizing?"

Silly pup - maybe he hadn't mistaken him more as he had seen through him in a way Angeal himself hadn't. There was some ancient saying about gifts and horses, wasn't there, some silly metaphor probably Genesis knew everything and then some about? "Condoms and lube? You know it's against regulation to keep that stuff in your locker, soldier." He threw the boy his best instructor stare. "I'm requisitioning everything."

Zack looked stricken for a moment, almost miserable. "Ange- I mean, sir, I--" So damn endearing.

"Tonight I'll be sure to come to your room for an inspection," Angeal went on, with a slight smirk, leaning closer to loom on him. Zack might be willing, but Angeal couldn't help to make sure the boy had an out if he changed his mind. "And if I find you there you'll better be prepared, because I will inspect. Thoroughly. Every. Single. Inch." The kid had caught on, apparently, because the deer-caught-in-the-headlights look was gone, replaced by a fierce grin and eyes that shone with barely restrained hunger.

"Tomorrow, pup, we'll both start working on our communication skills, because they're definitely not up to par as I thought."


	6. Danse Macabre (K - Reeve)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written on the prompt "Reeve, dancing with the devil".

Reeve stepped out on the balcony, sighing deeply and almost shivered at the chill. The night wasn't quite cold, but the party hall had been unbearably stuffy, and the change was startling if welcomed. He was supposed to be inside, shaking hands and exchanging pleasantries as the honor guest. Midgar's savior, the man that saved the project from failing and managed to bring it halfway already towards completion getting his much deserved promotion to Head of the newly instated Department of Urban Development.

The thought made him snort in his glass of champagne. He knew perfectly well he was just a handy excuse. The President had thrown the party for himself, to show off his nice, perfect city. He didn't really need to look back through the glass doors to know what the President was doing, but he did so anyway.

He almost looked away again, but strangely he found he couldn't take his eyes off the scene. Shinra and the other executives were forming a circle in the middle of the room, the high society of Midgar cluttering close. There he was, the President, talking for anyone that would listen to him, Palmer laughing loudly at his left, Scarlet at his right with the smile of a shark pulling her red lips and Heidegger beside her, unsubtly feeling up the bottom of the pretty brunette hanging on his arm.

For a moment he was reminded of the old religious books his mother used to collect, of the illustration of devils and skeletons and humans jumping and dancing together in a whirlwind of death and damnation. This wasn't what he had set out to do. He was an architect and an engineer, he had wanted to build and make a better life for people. And instead here he was, taken over and manipulated into something he was not, just like his city that was being build on crushed lives and living corpses that had forgotten the color of the sky, the plate like the lid on their coffin, nailed shut one sector at a time.

It was like dancing with the devil, dragged into a nameless dance without fixed steps nor lead.

Reeve stared at his half-full glass of champagne, and silently swore to himself to never drink again at Company parties. The mood and the alcohol made him a morbid drunk. He debated going back in to leave his glass, finally spotting a potted plant on the corner of the balcony, and what he hell, a bit of champagne wasn't going to kill it, right? He reached out to pour out his champagne and stopped when he was about to upend his glass, realizing only then the plant was a plastic fake. He stared for a long moment, before slowly turning around to look out beyond the balustrade.

Midgar. Made of neon lights, choking steel and plastic plants. His city. His biggest failure.

There and then, Reeve decided that this wouldn't be the end of it. He might have not known how to move in the complicated politics, but he didn't want his name to be forever tied to the monstrosity that Midgar was turning out to be, and it wouldn't be. He had never given up halfway on anything before, and he wasn't going to start now.

He would see the dance to its end, and figure out where it left him once the music stopped.


	7. Ninja Spoons (K-- Cloud, Zack)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why there aren't any spoons in the Shinra mess?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for ff7_drabbles on DreamWidth, on the prompt "spoon".

"Hey, Zack."

"Yes, Spike?"

"How come there aren't spoons in the mess?"

"They're forbidden."

"What for? They're _spoons_, for Shiva's sake! Did a ninja assassin try to stab to death a Chief Executive with a spoon?"

"Nope. There was that New Year party with Firsts and Seconds when someone spiked the punch with delta-vodka and Carlos made this dare about chocobos, spoons and Old Shinra's prized collection of enameled and bejeweled golden eggs..."

"I don't see what- …wait. Oh. _Oh._"

"Exactly. As result, both spoons and New Year parties are banned. I'll tell you all about it next time we're out for drinks, it was the best party ever!"

"Don't. Seriously. I'd like to stop eating soup through a straw at some point of my life, thank you."


End file.
